


Fits and Starts

by unfolded73



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-14
Updated: 2011-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:48:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21787021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfolded73/pseuds/unfolded73
Summary: The Doctor needs a new suit. PWP ensues. Co-authored with fid_gin.
Relationships: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Fits and Starts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kscribbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kscribbles/gifts).



> Notes as written on livejournal when originally posted, February 14, 2011: Written with great love for [kscribbles], who has had a hard time of it health-wise lately. We love you, hon, and hope you feel better soon! Hopefully this fic, written with your interests in mind, will help. Happy Valentine's Day, all!
> 
> Notes today: Making one more push to archive all the stray fics that I never posted here because I saw my word count was approaching 800,000, and it was making me crazy that there are fics I've written (or co-written, in this case) that might be lost to the aether.

Cloth whispered against his bare legs as the Doctor tugged the new trousers up and fastened them at his waist. Next came a starched, light green shirt which he fumbled off the hanger with clumsy fingers before putting arms into sleeves. He forced his hands through still-fastened cuffs, buttoned each button down the front, then frowned as he unclasped the trousers again to tuck in the shirt. Last a jacket to match the trousers; dark brown but no pinstripes. He dithered with the jacket buttons, doing first one, then two, then a different one. Nothing looked right.

There was a polite tap at the dressing room door. “How are you coming along, sir? Do you need anything?”

The Doctor put his hand on the knob and twisted it open. A real door, not a flimsy half door that you could see underneath. This was a shop where one made an appointment, or rather, where Jackie Tyler made an appointment for one.

The salesman looked him up and down and crowed approvingly at his appearance. The Doctor continued to eye his reflection with skepticism. “I don’t care for this fabric,” he said. “And the fit’s all wrong.”

“Of course we will tailor it, sir. But if the cut or the fabric is not to your liking, I’m sure we can find other--”

Rose appeared at that moment with four more suits. She dropped her burden onto the chair and whirled on the salesman. “Give us some time to try everything, and then we’ll let you know when we’re ready for your help,” she said. It was a bit brusque, the Doctor thought, but she finished with a wide smile that softened her words. The salesman (Erik, was that his name?) simpered and left them alone.

“Well, that looks … smart,” she said, meeting the Doctor’s eyes in the mirror.

“No it doesn’t,” he whinged. “It’s not me, Rose. It’s wool, and it hangs funny; I think it makes my head look too small. Does my head look small to you? And the pockets are the same size on the inside as they are on the outside.”

Rose gave him a sympathetic smile. “I don’t think I can do anything about the pockets, but we’ll find some suits you like, I promise. If not here, somewhere else.” She stroked his arm up and down soothingly.

It was a simple touch, friendly and affectionate, but it felt electric to him. The Doctor estimated that since waking that morning with Rose in his bed, a first morning together after a night of wonderful, erotic, intimate firsts, he’d thought about sex 247 times. He wasn’t sure how to handle this fixation, he just knew that right now, the last thing he wanted to be doing was shopping for suits. Unfortunately, it was something of a necessity.

The tragedy of the situation had been lessened only slightly by the circumstances under which he became aware of it. Collecting his clothing from where it had been unceremoniously thrown the evening before, the Doctor discovered a hole in his blue trousers. He’d confirmed his diagnosis sadly, wiggling one finger through the gap just under the left knee where it appeared the threads had simply worn through with age. And he had to admit that an awkward stumble to his knees on the rocks of Bad Wolf Bay several days before probably hadn’t helped.

“This was never a problem before,” he’d grumbled as Rose assured him they’d have him fitted for new trousers, a new suit altogether in fact. “ _Fitted_.” Disdain in his voice as he repeated the word. “Not much use for it, when your entire body can change at a moment’s notice.” He’d tried not to wince when Rose had pointed out that wasn’t a problem anymore, but she seemed to notice and had kissed him sweetly and slowly in an apparent apology, her lips lingering just long enough to remind him how little control he seemed to have over his physical response to her.

Rose examined him now in this new suit, staring at him silently from behind just long enough to make him self-conscious. “Not tight enough,” she said finally. “The trousers don’t show off your bum nearly as well as the other ones.”

He couldn’t help but beam at her in the mirror. “Yes, well, the TARDIS did always have an eye for measurements, not that she had, um...eyes...” He trailed off for a moment, losing his train of thought before picking it up again abruptly. “She had to, of course; some of my regenerations were shorter than others, and then of course I’ve been old a couple times, all hunched over and...oh.”

The last was exhaled in a surprised sigh as she sidled up close behind him, her face barely visible in the mirror peeking out from behind his shoulder, and placed one hand firmly on the feature in question through the slightly loose material. “Definitely need to be taken in here,” she said in a low voice, “but how do they fit in the legs?” He caught the suggestive tone in her voice underneath the surface innocence of the question and like that he was back in the night before again, remembering the feel of her naked skin under his fingers, and the way she had moved beneath him. His body reacted almost immediately.

Moving to kneel in front of him, she slowly drew one hand up the inside seam from his calf to his knee, tugging slightly to draw the fabric taut around his leg. The Doctor caught a glimpse of their reflection again in the full-length dressing room mirror: Rose on her knees with her blonde head at his groin level, blocking what would begin to make these trousers feel much tighter in a moment. “How’s that?” she asked, her voice again nonchalant as if she couldn’t almost certainly see his growing erection in front of her face.

“That’s...good,” he answered, swallowing what felt like no moisture at all and reaching out to touch her hair.

“Probably _too_ tight, like that,” she said, scrutinizing the fabric, still role-playing the concerned fitting room attendant. “I mean, how’re you supposed to run?” Looking down, he caught the smile she flashed up at him and returned it, loving her nod to the idea that nothing had changed in the life they led together, not really. There would always be more running for them in the future, even if he had to do it in a shop-bought suit.

Not that he _could_ run at this moment, if he had to.

Releasing the bunched fabric around his lower leg, Rose’s hand continued its journey upwards over his inner thigh, stopping just short of cupping him where he wanted her to so badly, moving instead outward and over his hip then up to the waistband. “Very important, the fit through here,” she intoned, still sounding detached even though she _had_ to see what she was doing to him. His grip on the back of her head tightened involuntarily.

The tightly woven cloth flowed under her fingers as she pulled it this way and that, caressing him, getting the measure of him in some way that almost seemed to go beyond the physical. Her expression was inscrutable, and the Doctor felt a sudden twinge in his heart at the thought of how long she had waited for him, how much she had sacrificed to get back to him. He wondered, not for the first time in the last few days, if he deserved that kind of love and devotion from anyone, but especially from Rose.

A flash of sensation shook him from his thoughts as Rose finally dragged a hand over the front of his trousers, a gentle stroke over where he was now fully erect. She smiled. “I think you misled me, Doctor. You seem to really be enjoying shopping for suits.”

He was beyond being coy. “I’m enjoying your hands,” he rasped.

Rose reached up and unfastened the clasp at his waist and pulled down the zip slowly. The loose trousers slid to his ankles as Rose freed him from his pants. The Doctor glanced nervously at the door, feeling scandalized - a somewhat new feeling for him. “We’re in a _shop_ , Rose.”

“He won’t bother us.” She gave him a half smile. “One of the benefits of being a Tyler in this universe. Now, stop being a prude and pay attention to me.”

The first touch of her lips to the head of his cock made him gasp. “I’m not being aaahh--” She took him into her mouth and he forgot how to speak.

Her mouth was so warm and wet and perfect, and she alternated between flutters of her tongue against the base of his cock and suction that threatened to make him lose his balance and fall to the floor. What was worse, and also so, so much better, was the vision they presented in the changing room mirror in front of him. The sight of Rose’s reflection, kneeling, her head bobbing gently in front of him, nearly sent him hurtling over the edge in what he, even in this fairly inexperienced body, recognized would be much too soon. The Doctor closed his eyes, reached over and braced himself against the wall with his free hand. The other hand was still in Rose’s hair, fingers threaded amongst the blonde strands.

She pulled off with an obscene, wet sound and looked up at him. Her hand took the place of her mouth, her strokes slow and firm. “Do you like this?” she asked.

A laugh bubbled out of his mouth. His vocabulary was prodigious to say the least, but he didn’t think he could summon words sufficient to how very _much_ he liked this. The quiet giggle died on his lips as it occurred to him that he ought to reciprocate somehow. “Rose, not to suggest in the slightest tiny way that I don’t enjoy your enthusiasm, but if you keep that up I’m not going to be in much of a state to...”

“Shush,” she said, and the meaningless babble streaming from his mouth dried up as though he’d just been waiting for her instruction. “I enjoy doing this to you. It’s just … I always wanted …” Rose continued the relentless rhythm with her hand, also seemingly at a loss for words. “I don’t want to lose any more chances to show you how I feel about you,” she said finally, her cheeks flushed pink.

“Okay,” he breathed. Which sounded awfully selfish when Rose had made such a heartfelt confession, so he added, “I love you.”

She was still stroking him in a tight fist, looking up at him from under her long eyelashes, her lower lip caught between her teeth, and it was so, so good. His hips were moving in time with her hand now, and he felt the muscles in his calves trembling with the effort of staying upright. The Doctor started to feel slightly light-headed, and if he knew one thing, he knew that fainting at this point in the proceedings would be very disappointing. He clamped his lips tightly shut and tried to stifle a whimper. He was not entirely successful.

He concentrated on Rose in an effort to bring himself under some kind of control again. Rose (breathe in), Rose (exhale). Rose, waiting patiently in this other universe which they both now called home; Rose, never giving up, never faltering, never believing what he'd told her was “impossible” and never doubting she would find her way back to him; Rose, who loved him so much that it brought her pleasure just to pleasure him with her mouth and hand...her hand, still stroking him steadily, her fingers curled around his cock just tight enough to provide the exquisite friction which would soon undo him. He thought of asking her to remove her blouse and bra, imagined her still kneeling in front of him, nude from the waist up, working him in that abiding rhythm until he came onto her breasts...

Oh, that wasn't helping. And it brought the reality of the situation into sharp focus: public dressing room, immaculately clean carpet, new trousers around his feet.

“I'm going to come soon,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse and far away to his own ears. “Very soon, unless you stop, which I don't want...you to stop, that is, but we haven't even _bought_ these trousers yet.” Stressing the last, because somehow that was the most mortifying thing he could imagine in that moment: the Tyler's favourite tailor explaining to his not-quite-wife's parents how their not-quite-son-in-law had received oral sex from their very-much-daughter and had spent himself onto clothing which he hadn't even had the decency to pay for first. How rude.

He thought he heard her stifle a chuckle. “You’re cute when you’re naive, you know that?” she said. He opened his mouth to point out to her that he was _not_ naive, he was in fact very worldly and brilliant and in spite of his momentarily decreased mental capacity was planning ahead and perhaps keeping them out of an embarrassing situation which would almost certainly result in their custom no longer being welcome in this shop, but again she silenced him when she once more bent to take him into her mouth.

She had her hand and her mouth working together now, and _oh_ , it was perfect, and he wasn’t sure if having an orgasm in Rose’s mouth was necessarily any less rude than on the dressing room floor, but Rose certainly seemed determined, and it was really out of his control now anyway, not when she sucked him just … like … that ...

He let go of Rose’s hair and bit his hand to stifle any noise (mostly), his whole existence focusing down to those bright swells of pleasure and the sight of her in the mirror, slowing and then stopping and then gently releasing him. The Doctor could only watch while Rose made him presentable again and his heart pounded in his chest. He longed suddenly for a bedroom, for a place to lie down with this amazing, wonderful woman, to hold her close and kiss her hair and thank her properly for the way she made him feel. Perhaps followed by a nap.

Rose stood up and smiled at him, and he settled for a hug and another ‘I love you,’ this time whispered against the shell of her ear. They held each other tightly for a long moment.

“I still don’t care for this suit,” he said at last, “ _but_ you've convinced me that clothes shopping can much more fun than I'd previously thought.” He pulled back and grinned dazzlingly at her, feeling a bit giddy. Life here just kept getting better and better, the majority of these positive developments having taken place only in the last 24 hours. For the first time since hearing his ship grinding away as she vanished forever from his sight, the Doctor was really hopeful for the future. Excited, even.

“Shopping can be fun,” Rose conceded. “You just need the right assistant. Meaning me,” she continued, giving him a cheeky smirk. “If Aaron (ah yes, _that_ was his name!) does that for you, I don't want to know about it.”

He laughed as she blew him a kiss and left the changing room, then he bent to remove the trousers tangled around his feet and try on the next pair.


End file.
